Page 3 of Chasing Hope

Hope’s restless gaze ambled over the people seated in the church in attendance for the Sunday Mass. Avid eyes seeking answers wandered to the one true essence that always gave her hope and peace. The statue of Mother Mary draped in a golden attire cradling baby Jesus. Bright, rich purple-coloured orchids placed in gleaming yellow vases adorned the cream and golden altar. Lost in deep thought, Hope’s eyes drifted close. The hair on the back of her neck stood to attention, and her eyes snapped open. Hope’s breath caught in her throat as Father Joseph Pinto locked his gaze on her. He touched his Pectoral Cross and his mouth curved into a smile. Fr. Pinto’s voice, soft and soothing, washed over her, momentarily drawing her into a restful stupor.

‘Almighty Lord, bless everyone present here today. As they surrender to you all their petitions, worries and anxieties. Jesus, let them be guided by the power of your healing light.’ Hope’s heart ached and her breath flattened. ‘I request of you to take a moment of silence and pray for your personal needs and trust that Jesus is with you.’ Hope’s worries and anxieties began and ended with Ethan. If she hated him so much, why did he always seem to occupy her every waking thought?

‘Hope, sweetheart.’ Hope opened her eyes, pulled in a shuddery breath, and smiled at her mother, Sheela Pereira. ‘The mass was so beautiful. I’m so glad we made it in time,’ Sheela said. She ran her hand over Hope’s stylish blunt cut. The short haircut made her facial features more distinctive. Sheela’s soft mouth picked up, and she palmed Hope’s cheek. ‘Come, let’s bid Father a good day before leaving. My friends are waiting for me at the club.’ They left their pew and walked out of the church. Unlike Hope, Sheela Pereira was a social butterfly. Fancy clubs and hi-fi kitty parties were her way of life. There wasn’t a day that went by without Sheela blowing up her husband Brian Pereria’s money. Being the wife of the owner of India’s number-one news channel came with its set of perks. ‘Come on, Hope, hurry up. I just received a message from Urmila that the “bumper housie” is starting in half an hour.’ Hope hastily waved out to familiar faces as her Mom tugged her towards a group of ladies who were already in conversation with Fr. Pinto.

‘Father, thank you for the beautiful service,’ Sheela said, and everyone around nodded in agreement. Fr. Pinto adjusted his white robe and settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifted to rest on Hope. ‘Hope, my dear child. What did you think of today’s sermon?’ Hope grinned.

‘Father, are you sure you can’t read minds?’ The surrounding women gasped. Sheela nervously patted her grey-streaked bob and shot her daughter a peeved glare. Fr. Pinto’s hazel eyes sparkled, and he burst out laughing. Fr. Pinto had known Hope ever since she was a little girl of ten, who, at that time, had found it a monumental task to sit through a service. Seventeen years later, here they were. Hope was a regular church-goer. She was an active member of the committee and volunteered regularly for church activities. There was nothing that happened in Hope’s life that Fr. Pinto was unaware of. Except, of course, for things that were inappropriate to be discussed with a priest. Fr. Pinto, a man in his early sixties, was the kindest and most genuine soul Hope had the fortune of knowing. He served as the resident priest for Mount Mary Church, Bandra. Well aware of the challenges and struggles Hope had been facing at her workplace, he would patiently lend her an ear while she bickered for hours on end about her sorry state of affairs with her boss.

Fr. Pinto lifted his finger and tapped the centre of Hope’s forehead. ‘If I had the power to read minds, my child, I would be lost in the chaos of all your riveting thoughts.’ Rays of the afternoon sun rained down on him, draping him in an amber hue. The silver at his temples gave him a distinguished appearance. Hope’s face turned crimson and Father had another hearty laugh. A petite, middle-aged woman standing to his right grinned and patted Hope’s shoulder.

‘Father Pinto has a unique quality to get to the best of us without much persuasion,’ she said and her soft features brightened. ‘Father and myself go way back. We studied together in the same school in Delhi.’ Affection laced her tone.

Hope’s eyes twinkled as a playful smile made its way up her plump cheeks. ‘Oh, this is so exciting. I’m sure you know all about Fr. Pinto’s childhood shenanigans.’ Sheela nudged Hope’s waist, urging her to move along. Hope ignored her mom and stepped closer to the kindly woman.

‘Oh yes sweetie, Father had a very colourful childhood. We have such fond memories of the past. We lost contact after he moved cities, and I’m so pleased that we were able to reconnect after decades. I moved to Mumbai just this month. My late husband, Matthew, passed away a year ago. May God rest his soul, and my grandson insisted I move into his home. He thinks turning sixty makes you old somehow.’ She let out a robust laugh. ‘I’m a fiercely independent woman. Despite my grandson’s constant badgering, I refused to relent. He is very protective of me. So we came to an understanding, and now I live in a home that’s not too far from his, in case I bust a hip.’ She chortled. ‘I’m now a short cab drive from the church. I came—’

‘Take a breath, Martha.’ Fr. Pinto shook his head, a smile hovering over his mouth. ‘She is a chatty one, isn’t she?’ Hope watched them exchange glances and she could detect the fondness they shared with one another. ‘Martha, you have not yet provided me with the opportunity to make an introduction.’

‘Oh my, I’m sorry. My name is Martha Jacob. It’s such a pleasure meeting you. I’m sure we are going to be spending a lot of time together.’ She spread her arms wide and wrapped Hope in a warm hug with compassion perfectly angelic. Attracted to Martha’s warm and welcoming nature, Hope hugged her back. The sweet scent of jasmine filled her nostrils. Fr. Pinto chuckled and fixed her a knowing look. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, you said you would make the introductions. My thoughts always race ahead of me.’ She blushed. Hope’s gaze skimmed over the cross embedded with baguette-cut diamonds draped around Martha’s neck suspended from a white gold chain. Tracking her gaze, Martha smiled. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? My grandson gifted it to me. He picked it up from Tiffany, New York.’ Martha sighed and held the cross between her fingers. Her benevolent tone conveyed her love for her grandson.

‘It’s stunning.’ Hope whispered, fascinated by the piece of jewellery. The sparkle of the diamonds set off artistically made for a fine piece of art. Slowly, the tip of Hope’s finger traced the cross. The skin on her palm grew hot where the pendant rested. At that instant, the air stalled and a profound sorrow gripped her heart. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and Hope found it hard to breathe. Her fearful eyes shot up to meet Fr. Pinto’s gaze. The gentleness in his eyes pacified her raging heartbeats. Hope sucked in a long breath. She gave a weak nod and took a step back. The pendant slipped from her hand, and she felt a deep pang of loss. What was the meaning of this unfathomable sensation that manifested within her?

Martha fixed Hope with a stare and her forehead furrowed. ‘Sweetie, your face is very familiar. I just can’t seem to place where I have seen you.’ Hope relaxed, and she passed on an impish smile. She opened her mouth to speak, but her Mom beat her to it.

‘Oh, my daughter is a famous news reporter for the First Up News channel owned by my husband. We currently have the highest TRPs. We also won the award for the Best Broadcasting Network this year,’ she said in that superficial tone that always annoyed Hope. Sheela could never let go of an opportunity to brag. For her, it was all about the pomp and show.

‘Oh yes, of course.’ Martha’s entire face brightened as if a big mystery was resolved. Her eyes traced their path back to Fr. Pinto.

‘Hope is a celebrity around here. She comes on TV and everything,’ Father joked, making Hope go red in the face.

‘How could I forget this cute face? Guess my grandson is right, I am getting old.’ Martha swung her lit-up gaze back at Hope. ‘In that case, you must definitely know my grandson. He works in the same office as you.’

Hope’s pulse picked up pace and the hair on the back of her neck stood to attention. There was a slight tremble in her hand as she raised it to massage the angel wings tattoo at the base of her neck. Like the pull of a magnet, her gaze latched onto Martha’s cross.

Martha pushed back her narrow shoulders, and her voice rang out with pride. ‘My grandson is the primetime anchor. You must obviously know him – Ethan Jacob.’

The devil incarnate.

Chapter Three

The headlines drifted along the flat TV screen while Ethan readied himself. He adjusted the mic pack latched to the back of his trousers and settled into his seat. The camera crew worked in the studio to cover him from different angles. His fingers pranced over the keys of his MacBook while the camera zoomed in on him. That face right there, packed with the punch of powerful news, ushered their ratings to skyrocketing success. Dressed in his formal chic three-piece dark blue Hugo Boss suit he appeared effortlessly charismatic. His hair was perfectly side parted in his signature style. Not many men could carry off the classic cut. But Ethan did not just carry it off, he rocked it. Oozing with confidence, he commanded the attention of his viewers. However, Ethan’s mind was all over the place today, which was so unlike him. The skin underneath his collar grew hot and he tugged at his abstract silk necktie. His irritation spiked as the reason for his disquiet slithered her way into his thoughts. Just like the snake that she was. Hope Pereira had made it her mission to make his life a living hell.

Ethan inhaled a deep breath and forced himself to cool down. He couldn’t afford to be out of his element. Rolling his shoulders, he worked to ease the tension settled there. The Rado on his wrist read nine o’clock. Marginally composed, on a subtle nod he acknowledged his cue. He pushed back his shoulders and drew in another steady breath.

‘Hello there and a very good evening. Welcome to your primetime news bulletin, I’m Ethan Jacob. The big story of the day.’ Ethan clasped his hands over his desk. ‘A heated debate took place in parliament today as opposition amps up pressure over farm laws. Opposition parties including the Congress and the left on Monday forced adjournment of the upper house of the Indian Parliament as they insisted on taking up a discussion on the burning issue of farmers' protests over the three new farm laws…’ Ethan’s eyes trailed along the words scrolling past the teleprompter. The power in his voice mounted as he aggressively attacked the news of the day. The passion with which he presented the news asserted that he was born to be in front of the camera addressing people worldwide.

Half an hour later, Ethan marched into the newsroom office. A massive floor where all the news was made. The backbone of every broadcasting news channel. The room was charged with an electric energy as editors worked diligently, racing to get ahead of time with the current affairs. Flatscreen monitors were mounted on the walls featuring news from different networks. HDTV changed the game for television broadcasts. This method started in Japan and spread to the US. In no time it captured the attention of the rest of the world.

‘Hi Vikram, how’s it going?’ Ethan stepped up to the assignment desk to address the team of input editors.

‘Going good, Ethan. We are coordinating with Akash in Afghanistan. Taliban says the fight will continue if international forces stay in Afghanistan,’ Vikram said, his voice serious.

Ethan nodded. Every mission came with its set of risks, and as reporters they were aware of it. It was commendable how some journalists faced difficult situations head-on. By contrast, Ethan ran his unit differently. As a rule, however crucial it was to get the news, it never came before the life of his reporters. ‘Ensure the crew is taking all the necessary precautions to safeguard themselves. Akash is known to take unnecessary risks. Tell him I have my eyes on him.’

Ethan re-checked their assignments for the day and moved to handle the issue that was the cause for ruining his weekend. Not just his weekend, but the better part of his life.

From across the distance their gazes clashed. The traction between them had the pulling power equivalent to that of an electric locomotive. Ethan sucked in a sharp breath while Hope curled her lips with icy contempt. ‘My office, now!’ Ethan commanded, his palms fisted in his pockets. Knowing glances were exchanged between the other team of reporters. There was a swift tension in the air.

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